


Limits

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 04:59:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11329089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Alicia throws her hat into the "Tunguska-missing-scene" ring.





	Limits

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Limits by Alicia

12/13/98  
Limits  
by Alicia  
11/98  
Disclaimers: Not mine. But I do maintain they have lives of their own.  
Spoilers: Tunguska, and earlier Krycek eps.  
Summary: Alicia throws her hat into the "Tunguska-missing-scene" ring.  
Rating: A soft NC-17, I suppose. Warning: I don't do warnings.  
Archive: Archive /X only, please.  
Author's Note: For Kix, who is a lot more special than she realizes.  
Acknowledgments: To Te, who consistently puts up with me and prods me to make things better--and still loves me even when I don't take her good advice. Thanks to Kix for the title I couldn't find for myself. And to Rikki for another viewpoint, always a good thing. Eternal gratitude to Riff, for solving the insoluble problem. All remaining mistakes, ambiguities, and/or squicks are entirely my own fault. With this many acknowledgments, it should be a longer story. ::shrugs::  
Feedback to , please.

* * *

***  
Limits  
by Alicia  
***

"You had this in mind all along."

Mulder glared at him, didn't reply.

"You booked two seats. That little performance in the parking lot--you were just yanking my ... well, I guess chain *would* be the appropriate term," Alex noted, rubbing his still-sore wrist.

"I like to keep my options open," Mulder finally allowed through clenched teeth.

"This is driving you bat-shit, isn't it?" Watching the other man struggle to remain still, Alex couldn't restrain a smirk. "Can't indulge those violent urges of yours with the flight attendant watching, can you? So limiting."

"Don't push your luck, Krycek."

Alex held his tongue. They had just boarded; it would be almost seven hours to London, then a layover before the flight to St. Petersburg and connection to Krasnoyarsk. No point in spending the rest of the trip in cuffs. He settled for a long look, slanting his gaze through his eyelashes in a way so practiced as to appear wholly ingenuous. The fact that he knew Mulder would be second- and third-guessing that innocence just made the whole thing more amusing.

His lips quirked as Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked away. He'd give him a while to pretend to read his magazines. //Then, time for a little more fun.//

Alex closed his eyes, set his mental alarm clock for two hours, and was asleep almost instantly.

***

He awoke right on time, remaining still for a moment, eyes closed, automatically assessing his surroundings before revealing his awareness of them. Old habits died hard; probably a good thing, given the unpleasantness it had taken to acquire them. After a moment he opened his eyes fractionally. The motion shouldn't be noticeable unless Mulder was staring directly at him--and that would be information worth having as well.

Alex thought Mulder might have reacted before turning his attention hastily back to _Omni_, but he couldn't be certain. He debated the advantages of feigning continued sleep, but his time with Mulder was likely to be brief and he didn't want to waste any more than he had to.

He indulged in as much of a stretch as he could manage in the cramped space. "Three thousand dollar toilet seats and they can't spring for business class?"

"Shut up, Krycek. If I'd had a crate I'd've shipped you in the cargo hold with the other animals."

"Temper, temper." Alex started to stand up, to the extent it was possible. "Do you mind?"

Another glare. "Where are you going?"

"Not very far, at 37,000 feet." Alex arched an eyebrow, nodded in the direction of the lavatories. "Are you going to get up, or do I have to climb over you?"

Alex dropped his gaze to cover the smirk when Mulder tried to bolt out of his seat and was confounded by his lap belt.

"'Remember, the buckles on these seat belts operate differently than the ones in your car...'" Alex murmured, adopting a calculated "Who, me?" expression when Mulder whirled in annoyance.

This really was more fun than he could have hoped. Mulderbaiting. If you could reproduce and distribute him, it would be the next craze.

//But They can. If They haven't already.// The thought briefly dampened his enthusiasm for the game.

Still, no sense wasting the opportunity.

Mulder stepped out into the aisle and stood looking at him with an expression that spoke more of "jilted rentboy" than "angry federal agent." "You coming with me?" Alex asked. No response. "Didn't think so." //If you trusted yourself in a bathroom with me, a lot of things might be different.

//Or not.//

He squeezed by Mulder and strolled to the lavatory, feeling the older man's eyes on him as he took advantage of the chance to stretch his back and legs. He considered seeing how long he could stay in the tiny cubicle before Mulder panicked and came in after him, but gave that up as pointless provocation. Granted, the idea of being alone with Mulder in a tiny space had its attractions, but there really wasn't much romance in four square feet of disinfectant-scented plastic, no matter how private. He contented himself with washing his hands thoroughly before flipping the sign to "vacant" and stepping back into the corridor.

One of the flight attendants was in the aft galley, listlessly fiddling with God knew what. He nodded at her, fully aware Mulder's blood pressure would be rising with every word he exchanged with someone else.

//It's so nice to know you care, Mulder.//

"... Thanks, Melanie." Alex gave the woman a smile and sauntered back to where Mulder was standing, blocking the aisle. "You want to go? I left you some hot water." With that, Alex settled back into his seat, doing his best to find a comfortable angle.

***

It took the better part of an hour, but Mulder finally relaxed against the cushions, mouth softening as his habitual tension //at least when I'm around// temporarily faded.

Alex waited another ten minutes, past the danger zone of the startle-dreams that hover at the edge of sleep. Then he slowly, carefully repositioned himself. //These long flights are so boring. And I've seen the movie already.// Not that he really needed an excuse. Alex had long since learned to indulge temptation whenever possible, and this was probably a safer setting than most.

He tugged the thin blanket over Mulder's lap, watching closely, ready to stop if the other man showed any sign of waking. But the hazel eyes remained closed. Maybe Mulder was more comfortable in Alex's presence than he'd have liked to admit. The thought elicited a speculative smile. And a fleeting brush over Mulder's crotch confirmed that his former partner's subconscious, at least, didn't object to Alex's proximity.

Alex glanced around the darkened cabin. Melanie and her cohorts were nowhere to be seen; presumably they were taking advantage of the late-night quiet to relax a bit before the breakfast service started. He turned in his seat, leaning his head on the small airline pillow and not coincidentally moving his right hand to rest on Mulder's thigh, under the blanket.

Facing Mulder now, he could look through the fringe of his lashes and absorb the details of Mulder's face to a greater degree than he'd been able to even when they were partners. He enjoyed the view for a few minutes, then went back to his chosen work.

Now-warm fingers pressed more firmly on jeans-clad thigh; rubbed, slid. He held his breath a moment when Mulder shifted position, but the agent merely muttered and subsided. Alex breathed deeply, stretched his shoulders. Then moved his hand a little further, cupped warm heat. //Oh yes.//

Alex's own cock twitched in sympathy, but that would have to wait. Keeping his eyes on Mulder's face, he pressed the heel of his hand against swollen flesh, his fingers curling down to squeeze lower. Careful that the motion didn't show outside the blanket, he set a rocking rhythm, smiling slightly when the tip of Mulder's tongue slipped out to wet his lips. //You like that, do you? Oh, if you'd only let me do this while you were awake...

//Well, it's good to have goals...//

Mulder's breathing, though coming more rapidly now, was steady, and his eyes showed no signs of opening. Alex essayed another calculated risk. Without interrupting the steady stimulation his right hand was providing, he slid his left hand down, fumbling a bit at the odd angle, and unbuttoned Mulder's jeans. Slow zip, and he hissed as the heat in his hand increased exponentially.

Soft cotton now under his palm, which was still tingling from being chafed against rough denim. //Damn, I wish I could see you, Mulder.// Briefs of some kind, slightly damp from body heat, but the color and style would have to remain a mystery. //Maybe later...//

Even without video, the sensation was enough to speed Alex's pulse. His imagination filled in the blanks, memories of locker-room glimpses merging with private fantasies to paint a picture of the hard flesh under his fingers. He ached to touch that smooth skin directly, but judged the risk of waking Mulder too great. So he slitted his eyes and concentrated on the slide of his thumb over taut fabric. //Yes.// Slick moisture now; he wanted to taste it, but restrained himself. //What are you dreaming, Mulder? Is it Scully's hand on you? Skinner's? Your own?//

Stroking, squeezing, his own cock painfully hard but untouched inside his jeans--and then Mulder shuddered convulsively, eyes flying open,

//Damn but what did you expect, Alexei?//

moisture soaking the thin material under Alex's hand. Behind the disoriented glaze of satiation, the expression in Mulder's eyes was unreadable. Whatever Alex might have wished to see there, he couldn't deny that, in the real world, anger was near the top of the list.

//And when did I start hoping for hearts and flowers anyway?//

Viciously stifling his confusion, Alex recollected himself quickly, pulling away as far as he could in the cramped space. "Easy now, Mulder. Wouldn't want to attract attention right this minute, would you?"

"F--fucking pervert."

"I just thought I'd--"

"Give me a hand?" Mulder snarled. "I would have expected something a little wittier from you."

"I was going to say, 'Help you get a little more comfortable,'" Alex replied as mildly as he could manage.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but being groped by a back-stabbing, murderous traitor isn't on my top-ten list of ways to relax." Bitter words, bitter tone.

Alex's mouth twitched--not enough to be called a smile, or even a smirk, but Mulder's eyes narrowed very satisfactorily in response.

Mulder's lips curled grimly, but he didn't say anything as he moved to get up. Alex caught at the blanket before it could fall to the floor. "Um, Mulder--" he said, with a tilt of his head, and the older man looked down, apparently only then becoming aware of his gaping fly. "Wouldn't want the other passengers to get the wrong idea," Alex murmured.

"You ..." Mulder sputtered to a halt.

"It's okay, go get yourself cleaned up. I'll wait right here for you." Alex could see the determination it took for Mulder not to hit him, a fact that helped renew his enjoyment of the situation. He settled back in his seat and closed his eyes. Brought his hand to his face and nearly moaned at the scent of Mulder on his fingers.

He knew it was pointless--Mulder *had* been wearing briefs, after all--but he couldn't resist licking his fingers, sucking them for a fleeting moment. Just enough to tantalize. //Fuck. Fun, remember, Alexei?// With an effort he regulated his breathing, relaxed his body. //At least try to *look* relaxed.// 

The discipline worked; before long a sudden yawn caught him by surprise, and he welcomed the distraction of lassitude. A night on Skinner's balcony hadn't exactly been conducive to rest, and whatever the coming days might hold, warmth and comfort were unlikely to feature prominently.

***

By the time Mulder returned from the lavatory, holding his magazine awkwardly in front of him, 

//He'll pay for this.//

Krycek was, to all outward appearances, asleep. Mulder considered waking him up to vent his spleen, but thought better of it. If Krycek was asleep, he wasn't lying. Or playing with Mulder's mind. //Or body.

//Don't go there.//

Mulder took his seat again; stretched uncomfortably. How could he have relaxed enough in the other man's presence to have a sexual dream? Though he couldn't be certain, he had the unsettling impression that he'd been aroused even before Krycek had started touching him.

//Who are you kidding? You've been hard ever since you saw that face, that body, come out of that truck in Queens.//

Mulder's lips twisted, but in the dark cabin, without anything to distract him ...

//Right. We're on our way to Russia to try to track down a rock from outer space, and that's less distracting than Alex Krycek.

//Well, it is.

//Damn.//

He'd thought he'd kept his--attraction was too *nice* a word; fascination perhaps came closer, it could apply just as well to bad things as good--with his former partner hidden, but apparently not. Or else Krycek just didn't give a fuck. Also a possibility, though Mulder found he preferred not to believe the man was capable of rape.

//Why am I making excuses for him?

//Because you're abysmal at making excuses for yourself.//

Mulder tried to summon up righteous fury at being used without his consent, but all he could find was bewilderment, and he couldn't even hang on to that for long. //Oh, fuck. 'Where ignorance is bliss...'// It would be so much more comfortable to believe he'd done nothing to encourage this. But, really, there was only one reason why he wouldn't be livid with rage.

//He had no right.

//True, but--

//So that makes it okay, he can do whatever he wants, just because of some ... fascination?

//No, of course not, but--//

Krycek muttered in his sleep, finely shaped lips moving involuntarily, and Mulder turned to him, thoughts derailed. That mouth--against his flesh. Warm, soft, urgent. On his own mouth, on his nipples. Mulder's cock, in its damp confines, threatened to reawaken. He'd done his best to erase the memories of a gentle hand on his arm, a seemingly-sincere murmur of concern. Tried to replace those images with the pain of bruised flesh and split knuckles. But even as his fists were inflicting pain,

//Too easily?

//Sure, he's been *letting* me kick his ass since Hong Kong.

//Oh Christ.//

he'd been aware of the texture of the skin he was marring, the bone structure underneath.

And in the timeless unreality of nighttime plane flights, Mulder gave in; allowed himself to conduct a leisurely survey of the sleeping man. The unguarded face was far too innocent for the deeds he *knew* Krycek had committed, let alone those he suspected him of. The frayed material of Krycek's collar seemed to caress the smooth skin of the younger man's throat. Well-worn jeans cloaked long, long legs. Stupid-ass haircut. //Bet that feels good--//

He squeezed his eyes shut, but couldn't turn off his thoughts. And when, grimacing, he blinked back to acknowledgement of his surroundings, he found Krycek gazing back at him.

"You're unusually quiet."

"I'm trying to remember what Emily Post says about conversation with the sociopath who just molested you." He must have gotten the tone right, because Krycek's eyes narrowed in what certainly appeared to be a wince.

Mulder felt the questions welling up; bit down hard to keep from asking something he would certainly regret, and the answer to which he wouldn't believe in any case. //Why ...//

If he went to sleep again, what would Krycek do? //Would he touch me again?

//Would I want him to?//

*That* uncomfortable line of thought was fortunately obviated by the swiftly-lightening sky around them and the renewed activity of the flight attendants.

The cart stopped at their aisle and Krycek smiled brilliantly as he accepted a cup of coffee from a woman whose expression was, Mulder thought, far too cheerful for that hour of the morning.

"Did you sleep well, Alex?" she asked with what looked like a wink.

//*Alex*?//

"Quite well, thanks, Melanie." Another grin.

The woman moved on to the next row, and Mulder shot a glare at his companion. "What did you tell her?" he demanded.

Krycek blinked innocently. "I said we were going to try to get some rest. Something wrong with that?"

Mulder shook his head, turned his attention to the styrofoam cup that he'd apparently taken from the attendant. Focused on it to the exclusion of everything else, studiously ignoring the voice in his head that pointed out how ridiculous his behavior was, how it must be manifestly obvious to Krycek that he'd succeeded in

//arousing//

upsetting him. He threw himself into an examination of the best way to avenge himself on his traveling companion, until he realized the ideas were making him visibly hard again. And then simply prayed for the flight to end soon.

***

end.


End file.
